War of The Cards: Glastheimspiel
by RedKinoko
Summary: A mysterious death merchant appears out of nowhere and gathers the best of Rune Midgard's bounty hunters for a tournament in GH. Prologue, 6 chapters uploaded. [Cancelled]
1. Prologue: Deadly Game

Prologue: Deadly Games 

Candles sporting ominous, azure flames flickered across an aged, elegant hall from their intricately carved holders. Unsettled dust floated everywhere, making ghostly silhouettes as dark candlelight mixed in along the large pillars scattered across the place. Nocturnal piano music that seemingly seeped out of its walls filled the room with unearthly sensations of sadness. 

An emerald-haired huntress of her early twenties rested her back against the damp side of a stone pillar. Her doll-like face, dripping with sweat, was painted bright red by skin-deep wounds that lined her cheeks; Her blue eyes, though tired, gave a sweet, sharp radiance that could only be seen in winter sunlight.

The woman took quick, short breaths. Though she knew she was exhausted beyond her normal physical limits, she could not afford to attract attention by breathing the air that her body desperately needed. She knew that it was looking for her; that it had caught her scent and was moments away from finding her position.  

_I must not die here. Not now._

Footsteps of the abysmal knight echoed all over the crumbling remains of a once grand Glastheimian banquet hall as it entered in full rage. Each step from the metal hooves of its phantom steed gave out the heavy sound of shattering marble while it searched to and fro for the huntress.

_I must not die here. Not until I have found my Ramus._

The huntress listened in, ears straining for the faintest hint of eluding the knight. The heavy footsteps only drew even closer. Her number was up. She clandestinely picked an arabesque-looking arrow from her quiver and started chanting with utmost silence.

_"I am Tamara, sixth descendant of the House of Parris. My arrow is unwavering and my mettle is invincible. Let my arrow be the guide of a thousand others from the heavens," _uttered the huntress as she quickly readied her war bow_._

With one swing from the gargantuan sword of the knight the whole stone pillar became no more than shattered glass. Dust enveloped the whole hall as the debris all but vaporized from the blow. The Abysmal Knight, struggling to look for the huntress in the midst of the newly formed fog, waved his sword in wild frenzy.

"Arrow shower, Volley of the Kaifa!" shouted Tamara, as she appeared from behind the monstrosity. 

The huntress let go of the string and the arrow glowed celestial white. Thousands of shining arrows appeared around the missile before it reached its target. The arrows unwaveringly caught up with the unsuspecting target and the sound of steel eating away steel drowned all sensation of music. After another second, the knight was riddled with so many holes, the heavy armor shattered into minute pieces as the phantom horseman inside it vanished into thin air.

Tamara finally breathed a little easier.   
  
_Ramus, I am on my way. Just wait. I'm coming for you. _  
  
Slow clapping suddenly filled the silenced banquet. "Magnificent show, I must say. The blood of Parris really flows in your veins. Unfortunately for you my dear, Tamara, it is time for you to join your ancestors."

One missile came out of the dust cloud and flew towards Tamara as she turned to see where the voice was coming from. The arrow hit her thick war armor and pierced her heart. She grimly looked at her chest plate. It was an arrow shaped into a rose with a steel stem filled with razor-sharp thorns. Pain started to spread all over as each beat of her heart only made the wound grow.

"You... Ishaiah. This is not yet over. I cannot die here." Tamara said slowly as blood started coming out of her mouth. Her hands trembled violently as she reached for another arrow from her back.

Another rose came out of the settling fog and hit the huntress once more on the very same spot. The intricately carved war bow, priced heirloom of House Parris, fell into the ground as Tamara slowly slid down to her knees. As she struggled to get up, she only lost more energy. Too much blood has already been spilled.

"In case you did not hear it, that was the sound of the curtain dropping down on your act," said the purple-caped hunter with a face hidden with scarlet bandages as he came out of the shadows. He dragged with him a crude ebony crossbow almost half of his body size. His eyes were bloodshot around the pupils.

Ishaiah approached the huntress and snatched a golden medallion from her bloodied neck. He then dropped a single rose to the pool of blood that surrounded Tamara, almost as if to mock the death of another legend.   
  
"Hmmm. Candidate number: Seventeen. Getting to the finals may not be too hard after all."   
  
Tamara bowed her head and stared at the rose as her eyesight slowly deteriorated. Death, as it seemed to her, could not be eluded for a thousandth time after all. And though at that time she almost felt like crying her heart out, she did not. For such was the fate that she had accepted the moment she entered the games. She finally closed her eyes and smiled one last time. The cold halls of Glastheim suddenly became even colder.   
  
_Just wait. I'm coming for you._


	2. Chapter 1: Autumn Leaves

**Chapter 1: Autumn Leaves**  
  
Night nearly turned into day as cadenced footsteps echoed along the poorly lit alleyways of northern Prontera City. Guards of the castle waved their bright burning torches on all corners they pass as they searched thoroughly in a most anxious mood.   
  
"Search for him, men! He was wounded in the left arm so he can be far off," ordered one of the more heavily armored men among the search party.   
  
Another man in heavy Pronteran cavalry armor arrived on the scene. He sported long, elegantly braided hair similar to the hunter goblins of the western woods.  His face had a complexion darker than most Pronterans. His red eyes, that of an angered vagabond wolf.   
  
"Have you found him, lieutenant?" said the knight who appeared to be a high official of the cavalry. Bracket   
  
The leader of the search party replied, "Not yet Monsieur Crux. This man really knows his trade."   
  
The knight gave out a sneer and went away with his escorts.   
  
_You won't fool me this time, Ramus.   
_  
Meanwhile, four shadows were gathering along the dark, damp culverts beneath the city streets.   
  
"So, did you get what we went in for?" said one of the shadowy figures.  
  
"You have better not screwed this one up, Ramus!" jokingly added another.   
  
One of the shadows stepped forward and revealed himself beneath a sill where moonlight passes through. A blue-haired thief with a triangular tattoo on beneath his left eye appeared.   
  
"Let's see, I have the Osafune-made dagger, the royal mask, and His Majesty's fake beard taken directly from Tristam the Great himself. The last one, I took as a little souvenir."  
  
"His Majesty's fake beard? I didn't know he sported those."  
  
Ramus looked awe-struck. "You don't say..."  
  
A woman a few years older than the thief moved out of the darkness. "You idiot! You're probably the most wanted man in Rune Midgard by now. The king doesn't need fake beards because he already has a real one!!"  
  
A rugged-looking archer lit a cigar from the far corner of the culvert. "Chill out, Aina. And besides, that bland crop of hair didn't look good on him anyway."  
  
"And how is the fake arrow wound working, shave-inator?" said a female acolyte who was apparently doing sidesorties with the sewer mice.   
  
"Picture-perfect," replied Ramus in a lighter tone, " They actually think I'm bleeding right now. Like I'd really take a hit from their half-guessed shots? Hah! They're probably still combing the north for me."  
  
Aina started walking in the same direction as the outgoing water. "Save your stories for later. Right now we need to get out of town."  
  
The four went silent again as they slid back to the shadows and treaded silently across the narrow pathways. Above them, soldiers scurried back and forth, still searching for the palace intruders.   
  
After a few minutes of walking, the four finally reached the end of the outgoing main pipe that channeled wastewater to the western fields. Everyone peeked their heads out of the opening and filled their lungs to their heart's content.  
  
"Ah, fresh air." mumbled Ramus.  
  
The four went outside and threw aside their capes. The clothes' ends dripped with green slime. Moonlight hardly passed through the woody west-end of the kingdom.   
  
"I really hate that place. I'm half-dead already," said the archer.   
  
"Drop all of your weapons and stay where you are!" shouted a familiar voice from beyond the woods.  
  
For a moment there, Ramus' heartbeat stopped. It was the voice that he could never forget.   
  


_No. This can't be happening._

  
The moonlit woods around the culvert exit suddenly glowed with excitement as countless Pronteran war archers with readied fire arrows revealed themselves. Monsieur Croix, sporting a small yet intimidating personal crossbow, stepped forward from the cover of the shrubs.  
  
The group dropped their blades and bows and slowly raised their hands in surrender. Dodging their way out would be nothing short of suicide.   
  
"You are coming with me, Ramus", said the knight as he dragged Ramus away from his weapon, loot and friends. "You have troubled me long enough. You shall be executed tomorrow."   
  


_God damn you Croix!  _

  
Ramus gave a melancholic look at the three as he was slowly dragged away by ironclad castle guards from his friends.   
  
Monsieur Croix gave another snicker and started walking away.   
  
"As for the three, I have no more need for extra baggage."   
  
Walking away, Monsieur Croix said while exchanging looks of mocking with Ramus, "Kill them."  
  
"Nooo~ !", shouted Ramus as welling tears in his eyes gave way to the force of his emotions.   
  
The thief tried to break loose from his captors in a most aggressive fit. But as much as he wanted to do something, he received two simultaneous blows from the dull side of the guards' spears to his back and fell face first to the ground.   
  
Arrows whistled as they cut through the thick night wind. The three didn't even give out as much as a yelp. Like autumn leaves, they one by one fell. In silence and in grace, they fell. All of them gave Ramus a glimpse of farewell, smiling, almost as if they were whispering to him "'till we meet again." 


	3. Chapter 2: The Chosen

**Chapter 2: Chosen (part 1)**  
  
Ramus woke up gagged in chains. He found himself trapped inside an armoured carriage. Without a doubt, he was inside the wagon used for transporting prisoners considered too dangerous to contain in Prontera's dungeon to the much larger penitentiary in neighboring Izlude.   
  
The heavy metal chains that bound his arms and legs rattled as the carriage moved hastily along the bumpy road. He peered outside the small, grilled window at the back of the container and saw a full escort of Palace cavalry guards.   
  
Figuring that there would be no escaping the transport, Ramus stepped back from the window and slumped himself along its metal flooring. There, he tried to recall how he ended up gagged in a prison transport in the first place. Strong emotions started to flood in. He couldn't help but shed more tears from his already damp eyes.   
  
_Aina… Arkhan… everyone… I could have saved them all. _  
  
Images from his past started to come alive within the four walls of his mobile prison. His memories took him back to the arid sands of Morroc of his yesteryears.   
  
_"Let's go back to the evil merchant's mushroom patch again!", said Aina as she stared a the slumped little kid dressed as an apprentice thief.  
  
"I don't wanna. I'm a-scared of those creepy-eyed chonchons, sis."  
  
"Ramus, you cowardly little jellopy! What will your ancestors think of you? Are you from House Parris or not?" replied the agitated Aina.   
  
Ramus looked up to Aina with teary eyes.   
  
"Let him be Aina," said an older looking green-haired Rouge who passed by.   
  
"But Tamara, Arkhan and the others are way past him!" stammered Aina.   
  
"No more buts! The great Ramus 'al Asama  is just a late bloomer. Aren't you Rammusy-wussy?" said Tamara as she turned towards the little kid and made playing faces.  
  
"Don't call me that. It's embarrassing."   
  
The huntress closed in on Ramus, patted his head gently, and walked past him. "Oh? You don't want that name? Tell you what, I'll stop calling you that the moment you give me mushrooms from the old man's farm."  
  
Sis, wait! I don't wanna!  I don't wanna… I don't wanna…   
  
_

_Pathump. Pathump. Pathump._

_His heart beat faster and faster. _  
  


Pathump!

Ramus' reverie was cut after the carriage he was riding was forced to a violent halt.  
"Who's there? I demand that you show yourself!" shouted a person who sounded like the lead of the escorts. Disturbingly loud grunts came from the pecopecos who became extremely restless as they convo stopped in the middle of the highway.   
  
Ramus quickly peered to the small opening once more only to see the eyes of one of the guards staring back at him.  
  
"Stay down or I will get in there and execute you myself, dirty thief!" said the guard. He shut the window and enveloped the prisoner in total darkness.   
  
The thief slowly put his ear on the metal platings of the side of the carriage. Sounds of swords being drawn and commands being barked out by the lead guard leaked into the cell - a sign of the escort gearing itself up for defense. It was clear that there was somebody who was going to attack the transport. But who would even dare attack a full convoy of castle guards for a single prisoner?   
  
Nobody in his house knew that he was even in Prontera. Painfully enough, he knew that the only people who were aware of what he was doing that night lay dead somewhere outside Prontera.   
  
"Stick to the drill. We will take down who ever tries to close in on our bounty", yelled the same deep voice who had been commanding the guards since the convoy had stopped.   
  
What followed was something that a normal person would dare not hear in his lifetime. Helpless screams, lighting-quick sword swings and armor, flesh and bone being torn apart at the same time echoed even inside the cabin. Ramus withdrew from the metal sides of the cell as the battle outside raged on.   
  
After a mere two minutes, think silence enveloped the air.   
  
Ramus braced himself at the far back of the carriage as he expected the worst when the locked doors opened.   
  
Oddly enough, an old merchant appeared before him as the door swung open.   
  
"Ramus 'al Asama," said the old man in a coarse voice, "we've been looking all over for you."  
  
Ramus stood in disbelief at his liberator. The man looked like he was in his early sixties.  White beard grew like nobody's business all over his chin and his left eye was shut with stitches. The crooked posture was not that of a warrior. It was in fact more of an aging hunchback who wouldn't last five minutes of fighting. On his hand was a baton notably of the Albertan merchantry.  
  
"Well? Are you going to stare at me all night or do you any plans on getting off that stinking piece of metal box anytime soon?" said the merchant while staring at the sulking prisoner.   
  


"Why did you have to free me? I might as well be joining my comrades in the Elysian."

The old man gave out a warm smile. "Would that please your comrades?"

_Live. You must live. _

  
Ramus nodded and slowly stood out of the carriage. He looked out side and saw a scene as gruesome and lugubrious as hell itself. Blood was splashed everywhere. On trees, in the grass, along the road, and on the walls of the carriage; If there were indeed a need for a literal depiction of "painted red", the scene that night would have described it best.   
  
The chained thief nearly lost his lunch as he saw his former captors, or at least what was left of them, entrails scattered all over the place. Body parts were hanging on the branches on the lower trees by the roadside. Some of the men were literally vertically cut in half with their armor hewn down along with their flesh. Shattered metal was scattered along the road. The faces of the vanquished sported the expressions of hopelessness, of desperation. Not even the pecopecos were spared. The whole place was screaming "death" at anyone who had the stomach to even look. And to think the whole thing happened in just under two minutes.   
  
From the far distance, he saw two figures. One was a green-haired female Kafra wiping a bloodied razor-sharp-looking katana and the other was a man cloaked in black who seemed to Ramus as the largest man in Rune Midgard. The kafra who stood by him barely even reached the waist height of the gargantuan.   
  
"Why did you rescue me, old man?", asked Ramus as he turned towards the merchant.   
  
The merchant arched his back and gave out a hearty laugh. "Hohohoho! Because dead men never get to have their revenge! And besides, Kuroko and Sampaguita hardly get enough action. They need some practice."  
  
The Kafra approached Ramus with her blade still in striking position. Ramus looked away as the Kafra swung her sword at him. The chains of both his arms and legs fell into the ground. Two pieces of perfectly sliced metal - with one swing.   
  
"I know you have many questions Ramus. Everything will be cleared up when you arrive at the tournament grounds," said the Kafra.   
  
"Tournament grounds?" asked Ramus in surprised tone.  
  
With a blink of an eye, the four instantly vanished in the middle of the road to Izlude and reappeared in front of the gates of the great castle of Glastheim.   
  
"Yes, tournament grounds," added the old merchant, "You have now become the final entry to the tournament of Glastheimspiel." 


	4. Chapter 3: Glastheimspiel

**Chapter 3: Glastheimspiel**  
  
"What do you mean tournament!?" shouted Ramus.  
  
"Welcome to Glastheimspiel, the legendary tournament of Glastheim castle!" boasted the merchant as he faced the gargantuan doors of the castle of long lost time.   
  
Ramus turned away from the old man, the kafra, and the giant and said in a downed voice, "I don't want to be a part of this nonsense. I have to go back for the remains of my friends. I didn't even have time to grieve for their passing,"  
  
The old merchant smirked and put on an equally aged pipe. "I wouldn't try that if I were you. The master of this castle wouldn't let anyone leave this place alive."  
  
"Hah! I am a thief! I can escape anything!" said the challenged Ramus.   
  
He hastily climbed the nearby mound and surveyed the gates of the castle. His jaws dropped in disbelief as he swept the horizon with his eagle eyes.    
  
Thousands and thousands of Abysmal Knights surrounded the walls and gates of Glastheim, each one brandishing a sword that could erase a man and his pecopeco with one swift blow. Indeed, there was no escaping the place.   
  
Sampaguita, who did nothing but play around with her sheathed katana since they came to the palace grounds, finally broke her silence. "The old timer is right. Even my warps no longer work here. Evil Druids are sealing off the dimensional gates."  
  
The unbelieving thief jumped back to the ground. "Why me?"  
  
"I, Maphistus, death-merchant extraordinaire, have been sent forth by the master of this castle to fetch you. And whomever the master invites, I make sure he comes. From what I have seen, the master only invites the best bounty hunters, warriors, criminals and soldiers in Rune Midgard. He has seen something in you and you should be honored to be here."  
  
Ramus shook his head in puzzlement.   
  
"So what's in it for me?" asked Ramus.   
Sampaguita answered, "The winner of the tournament will be given three wishes. All of them shall be granted regardless of their nature. Reasons for joining, however, are as varied as the people who join the contest."  
  
Ramus scratched his head. "Any wish you say?"  
  
Maphistus looked at Ramus with mischievous eyes. "Anything. From eternal life, to lordship over Rune Midgard, **to the resurrection of your loved ones.**"  
  
"And what about those who do not win?" asked Ramus.   
  
The cloaked gargantuan threw a polished skull to the grassy grounds in front of Ramus.   
  
"Death." said the large man in a deep, unfaltering voice.   
  
The death merchant puffed his pipe and said, "Rules are simple actually. Each contestant will be given a pendant with a number. First person who gathers ninety-nine pendants wins. Of course you will have to take the pendant from a dead corpse. Otherwise, the pendant will not be counted."  
  
Maphistus pointed at the cloaked giant. "Koroko will ensure that the rule of fighting to the death will be followed."  
  
"Ninteynine pendants eh?", replied Ramus. "So how many contestants are there?"  
  
The kafra drew out her katana to polish it and said in passing "One hundred. Your pendant shall be the hundredth."  
  
Maphistus threw a shiny object at Ramus, which he caught with ease. It had a number seventeen etched on one side and the words "Ramus Al' Asama" at the back. 

"Your invitation."

He was an expected guest afterall.   
  
A timepiece sounded off inside the vest of Maphistus. He tucked one hand in to turn it off and turned away from the kafra and the thief. "Well, Koroko and I should get going. You shall all automatically be warped inside the castle after dawn. Inside, you can go kill anything that moves. But until then, enjoy your stay and try to get some rest."  
  
As the two started walking off, the merchant stopped and said "Oh, and I almost forgot. You still don't have weapons right? Koroko, give him what the master has provided for his armaments."  
  
Koroko half-opened his cloak and threw out a huge black case to the ground.   
  
The two then continued walking away and disappeared into the shadows of Glastheimian masonry.  
  
The comodo kafra looked at the casing as she slowly polished her long katana while sitting on one of the steps of the Glastheimian entrance. "I think that's for you."  
  
Ramus nodded and quickly ran towards the heavy-looking case. He opened it and found an Osafune-made dagger (probably the same one that he had stolen that night), a quiver of silver arrows and most peculiar carved bow. It was the great heirloom warbow of House Parris, last used by Tamarah before she disappeared five years ago. 


	5. First Interlude: The Kafras

**First Interlude: The Kafras**  
  
_Kafra Corp. Headquarters, Al de Baran:_  
  
An old man of his late sixties slouched back a little as he slowly puffed away smoke from his pipe. The dark room was slowly being filled with haze from the smoke, which had nowhere to go.   
  
The door slowly opened. Light coming in from the crack cast a beam into the face of the man behind the fine-grained desk on the far side of the office. He had a scar in one of the cheeks of his bloated face and his lips were both thick and protruding. His hair was made of wig and his monacle showed off his social status.   
  
The old man removed the pipe from his mouth.   
  
"So? Have you caught the deserter of the Mjolnir exercise?" said the man in a weak yet determined voice. Thick smoke from the pipe escaped his mouth whenever he opened it.   
  
A feminine figure in yellow Kafra attire entered the dark room. "Not yet, Proprietor Callus. Informers have last reported her running through the fields of west Mjolnir," said the woman.  
  
"I never imagined that the day a kafra would desert her roles would ever come…" said Callus in a sad tone. "Where have I gone wrong?"  
  
"Hers is a unique case. The rest of the Kafra Elite are ready and willing to follow your orders," said the Kafra lady in a dainty voice.   
  
The old man sighed. "Thank you for the reassurance, my dear daughter."  
  
"Her squadmates have been interrogated successfully; they have revealed that she is indeed heading to the Glastheimspiel. As you have expected," said the Kafra.   
  
The proprietor swung his chair away from the door and faced a painting of Al de Baran's clocktower behind his desk. "As much as I would hate seeing one of my children leave this earth at such an early age, we cannot let the secret weapons of the Kafra Corp run around without a leash."  
  
"Shall I terminate her contract before she reaches Glastheim then?" asked the Kafra.  
  
The old man replied, "She wants to destroy our great corporation with the prize of the contest. However, I never prevent people from trying once."  
  
The Kafra pulled out a long katana from under her apron. "What are your orders then, Proprietor?"  
  
"I shall arrange for your entry in the tournament. Make sure she doesn't win, Sampaguita. Return her Kafra band to me."  
  
"As you wish Mr. Callus," said the Kafra. She then turned away, walked slowly and closed the door as she went out of the dark room.   
  
The old man once more put the pipe in his mouth and puffed away. The embers of the burning weed in the pipe were the only light that the room now had.   
  
_My dear Vinca, running won't do you much good. Not even the great walls of Glastheim can protect you from my reach._


	6. Chapter 4: Waiting For Dawn

**Chapter 5: Waiting For Dawn**  
  
_How did this get here? Why did he have Tamarah's warbow?_  
  
The pieces of the puzzle that he had in his head didn't seem to fit into a single picture. So much has happened since had he cut off the old king's beard a few hours ago. So much, that he has nearly forgotten the deep grief that he had for the loss of his comrades.   
  
Ramus' thinking was broken up when the Comodo Kafra sheathed her sword and spoke. "You know, you can think of answers to all of your questions the whole night and come up with nothing. It may be of more help if you would try got get some rest and just let the tournament answer them for you."  
  
Ramus leaned on one of the large pillars, tied the dagger to his leg and tucked the warbow in his back. The kafra lady was right.  
  
"So what's your story? I didn't even know Kafra ladies could use weapons," said the thief.  
  
"I'm here on official business. I don't even care about the prize," replied Sampaguita.   
  
The thief didn't even bother questioning her answer further. Kafras are the world's most mysterious people. Sampaguita is no different from all the Kafras that he has met before. Ramus just put on the pendant bearing his name and entry number. He shuffled the quiver of arrows and strapped it around his right leg.   
  
Sampaguita stood up, stretched her arms forward and stared at the starry skies that painted the sky in a most serene expression.   
  
"Dawn is coming soon. I guess I'll just see you inside Ramus," said the Sampaguita as she started walking away from the entrance of the castle. "You look so innocent and pure. I hope we won't get to face each other. "  
  
True enough, the position of the stars told Ramus that dawn was indeed coming. He couldn't help but wonder at what the kafra was thinking. How could she be so calm in talking to him when she knew that they could be locked in a blood-curdling battle a few hours from now?   
  
Kafras are always smiling, the expressions in their faces are always begging for the question: what goes on behind their mask of smiles?  
  


"Wait!" Ramus shouted to the Kafra from the distance. "How can you not think of the ninety-nine deaths that will be tabbed on to you should you win this tournament?"

Sampaguita stopped walking away. "You mean guilt?"

Ramus replied, "Damn straight!"

The Kafra gave out a chuckle. "Kafras are not built to feel guilt."

_Built?_

And she continued, "I've already killed before. My hands are soiled. I feel no regret in taking the life of people who I probably wont even remember tomorrow."

Ramus looked at the stars, still thinking of his fallen comrades and Tamara. "And what of those people who have a place in your heart?"

" 'tis my ardent wish for that to never happen," said Sampaguita in a particularly depressed tone  
Meanwhile, the Abysmal knights outside the walls of Glastheim stood unmoving, farfetched from their usual aggressive behaviors. Something inside was ordering them around, Ramus thought. He needed to reach the master of the castle to know what had happened to Tamarah.   
  
Red light blazed across the horizon on the far east of the castle grounds. The moment Ramus turned to see the sunlight in eager anticipation of its warmth pelting his skin, he disappeared from the green surroundings and found himself somewhere dark and damp, somewhere inside the castle.  
  
The great Glastheimspiel has finally begun.


	7. Add on: Kafra Diaries

Kafra Diaries : A Day in The Life of...

You'd think that a Kafra's life is all fun and games, meeting new people everyday and having the trust of everybody. That's what I have always thought when I was a little kid. I have always wanted to become a Kafra lady. Half of my life, I have spent in trying to perfect the arts of storage, warps and information gathering for the great Corporation. 

Outside a Kafra's life, everything is all smiles and sunshine. 

Outside. 

Do you know how it feels to have to forever bid fare-thee-well's to people who you know you'll probably never see again? Warriors and wives, children and young men. Always leaving you with a smile, most of them never to return from their exploits. 

Have you ever seen a widow's face taking out her last valuables, nay,   
the valuables of her departed beloved from your care just to feed her starving young who will probably grow up fatherless? I have seen those faces a thousand times over. In fact, I have grown distaste for it. 

Great wars, fierce battles, bloody hunts and contests of death and destruction... I've seen them all. If not through my own eyes, I have seen them in the souls reflected by the weary eyes of the those fair-fated enough to return to my services.

All in a days work. Outside a kafra's life, everything is smiles and sunshine. Outside. 

There should be an end to all stories. And my story shall end in the west. 

- Voshino Vinca's Last Entry on her journal in Al de Baran. 


	8. Chapter 5: Night Flowers of Nostalgia

**Chapter 5: Night Flowers of Nostalgia**  
  
Ramus slowly opened his eyes. The pelt of the sun that he had been longing for was replaced by darkness so enervating, it would make even the boldest of heroes cringe. The sudden rush of melancholic atmosphere drawing the enveloping darkness and the undisturbed ancient air sent shivers down to the his bone.   
  
The thief took one deep breath. This is it. From the Ramus's point of view, this is the only way that he can do something for his friends. This is the only way that he can ever find out what had happened to his sister Tamara.   
  
He drew his dagger and patiently waited for his sharp eyes to adjust in the dark. Soon, images of drapes and velvet setting lined with thin rotten ropes formed in front of him. Ramus stepped inside the large curtains and ended up in the stage of an ancient grand theater of Glastheim, lost pride of a damned legacy, entombed by time.   
  
Ramus squinted his eyes to see as far as he could. Remains of what were once ivory chairs and broken tables lay scattered along the aisles. Some were left intact along the rows but time did not let them go without damages too. Dust covered everything and created an almost dark winterish atmosphere.   
  
Through the center of the empty stage he walked, where spectacles of old were once displayed one night after the other. There is nothing there to grace the long-gone audience now. Emptiness and silence served as the only merit to its glorious past. The whole place looked like it has taken loneliness, put it in form and painted it in a grand mural in all corners of the theater.   
  
And though the thought would defy anything heard of and seen in the world, the lights of the theater soon came alive. Torches started lighting themselves up, almost as if they were gladly welcoming the first guest in thousands of years. Ghostly music of the dark shortly followed. An aria of ghostly whispers soaked the air with an ethereal feeling that deepened any emotion that lay in its listener's heart.   
  
Ramus couldn't believe what he was experiencing. The theater seemed so unworldly. It seemed alive. He jumped off the stage and darted for the large wooden doors that served as the exit at the far back of the seats. Not too surprisingly enough, the doors sealed shut by themselves, locking the thief in a most unwanted place.  
  
A feminine voice similar to Sampaguita's suddenly came from the far end of the stage. 

"The castle has its way of bending to its master's will."  
  
A spotlight lit itself up and illuminated a red-haired Kafra of her early teens on the stage. Her short wavy hair fell straight in front of her face but the trademarked smile could still be seen, even from a distance. Her standard uniform was torn and rent. And on her right hand was an ornate arcwand, twice as long and twice as large as those used by the contemporary mage.   
"Voshino Vinca, at your service," said the Kafra.   
  
Ramus faced the woman. Another spotlight from the dark walkways above the theater lit up, this time focusing on the thief. "Mm? Another Kafra? So what's your story?"  
  
" I have come to destroy the evil which has spawned my existence", replied Vinca, "And unfortunately for you, you're in my way; you, and that wretched sister of mine. I will do what it takes to get my wishes even if it means I have to kill a thousand more of your kind."  
  
Ramus smiled back and said, "Well, now that I know we both have our reasons…Touché, loves!"  
  
The thief pulled back his dagger and ran as fast as he could towards the stationary maid. Vinca stood perfectly still and did not even change her expression.   
  
"Here I come!" shouted Ramus as he lept towards the stage and aimed to strike the Kafra.   
  
On the last possible moment, the Kafra lifted her chin up, exposing nothing her demonic red eyes that blaze with sheer energy. "Die, thief!"  
  
An ominous-looking warp portal that radiated dark colours instantaneously appeared between the thief and the kafra. The distortion was unlike that of the priests, which had a most serene feeling to it when opened. This one looked like it would send any man unfortunate enough to step on it straight to hell.   
  
Ramus put all of his energy in that one final step before the dark portal. When his right foot reached the floor, he twisted it, put all of his weight towards the right and kicked off. Ramus flew to the far right of the portal and evaded the warp portal by a mere few inches. His pouch of stones, however, was unlucky enough to get caught. It disappeared immediately leaving only the strap around the thief's body.   
  
Dust started to rise as Ramus slid forcefully along the still-smooth floorings of the stage. The portal disappeared shortly after, leaving behind nothing but a crater in the ground. Ramus expression changed to a serious tone. "That's why I don't take warps from Kafras."  
  
"You've eluded my attack. Now lets try something a little bit more challenging," said the Kafra.   
  
"Bring it on, cutie!" taunted Ramus.   
  
In the blink of an eye, five different warp portals started materializing around Ramus. Thinking of a plan was a luxury that he could not afford.  
  
Meanwhile, somewhere above the theaters, a shadow, unmoving and tranquil, was watching the fight.

At the blink of an eye, Ramus was already airborne. He spread his arms in graceful display and slowly inverted himself in an acrobatic move. As the ebony beams from the portals started to shoot out of the holes of the stage floor, he slowly moved his arms, torso, neck and legs in such a way that each beam missed his body parts by a few inches. The sight of his high leap looked like a complex aerial dance that could have been pulled off only by the most agile of Ramus's trade.   
  
The distortions quickly vanished after a couple of seconds. Ramus landed on his hands and cartwheeled back to position. He then balanced himself forward, drew back his dagger once more and ran towards the redhead. The fierce and agile wolf strode on, carefully measuring his step as the ground erupted in violence with successive openings of portals beside and behind him.   
  
The thief quickly zeroed in on the young lady. The Kafra stared at the attacker but refused to move from her spot. The warps finally stopped but the soulless smile on her face seemed to be coming from a perpetual emotion of joy, forever constant and unwavering.   
  
Ramus finally got close enough and lunged in for the kill. Young Vinca's exposed eye looked on without fear. She waited for him to get close enough. Ramus drew back his dagger and swung at his target with swiftness that made the air whistle. Sound of flesh torn apart followed.  
  
Drops of blood dripped to the floor in front of the Kafra as Ramus landed behind Vinca. Ramus clutched the hilt of his dagger harder than ever. He felt insulted and at the same time, he felt pity for himself as he slowly got up from his kneeling position.  
  
The Kafra finally moved. She turned to the thief and lifted her bangs. The uncovered red curtains exposed face of an innocent child with a deep new wound in her right cheek that dripped blood on the floor. Vinca looked into Ramus's eyes. Ramus got a blast of cold wind from just one look. Her face is almost saying that he's gonna regret the fact that he couldn't kill a Kafra who doesn't even move.  
  
The two stared at each other for quite a while. The ghostly songs of the abandoned theater grew louder than ever, almost as if it was opening the climactic scene from a grand play.   
  
The Kafra lifted her staff and pointed it at Ramus.  
  
"Touché", whispered the Kafra. Her smile suddenly turned into an expression of nothingness. The long bangs of her hair fell once more to cover her wounds and one of her evil-looking eyes.   
  
In a tacit agreement, the two went toward each other at the center of the stage in full speed. Vinca violently swung her staff at Ramus with a force unnatural for a Kafra. His Osafune dagger took the blow quite well but the sheer force made Ramus slide back a few steps backward.   
  
"Huff. Such strength is unbecoming of a sweet girl like you," scoffed the thief.   
  
No reaction. The Kafra once a gain started running towards Ramus. Ramus spread his legs and planted his arms to the ground in a low crouch. He patiently waited for the girl to come at him.   
  
_With this low a profile, you now have to choice but strike from above._  
  
As predicted, Vinca raised her wand as if she was going to crush the low-lying thief in one devastating hammer-stroke. Ramus, half-expecting the move, quickly rolled to one side and went towards the girl's right flank.   
  
_This is all too easy. _  
  
Just before the edge of the dagger touched her flesh, the Kafra spun around and eluded the strike by a half an inch. The momentum of Vinca's strike did not go to waste as a bone-cracking full-circle kick from the Kafra's left metal shoe landed on Ramus' cheek as he passed the Kafra in astonishment.   
  
Ramus flew out of control towards the back end of the stage and crashed on a box filled with ancient masks once used for the plays of the theaters.   
  
He slowly got up and patted his cheek.   
  
_Damn. She's can't really be human. Outside, she looks like a kid but her blows are stronger and quicker than some of the monks that I have encountered in the forests of Prontera._  
  
"That wasn't as bad as I had expected. This should be an interes…", said the thief. He would have continued but he slowly lost his balance and fell to his knees. He tasted traces of blood in his mouth.   
  
_Damn it! This is not good. I can't even move my body. I never imagined I would be defeated by a young kafra with just one blow! _  
  
Ramus looked up to the red-haired Kafra. Her smile had returned. Her face looked so peaceful, just like Sampaguita shortly before the games began.   
  
"Do you like flowers, Ramus?" said the Kafra in a very sweet voice.   
  
_Flowers?_   
  
Ramus gave out a puzzled look. How could a person talk about flowers with somebody she's trying to kill?  
  
"I like flowers. Back in Al De, my sister and me used to pick all sorts of flowers from the nearby mountains and keep them between the pages of our Kafra manuals to preserve them. I would do anything to make the flowers stay the same forever," Vinca merrily recalled.  
  
Ramus tried to slowly rise from his slump but Vinca was all to eager to make him kiss the floor all over again. She went over to his side and hit his back with her metal staff. Ramus fell to the floor and lost grip of his weapon.   
  
"Don't disturb me when I'm talking. I extremely hate that. Thank you for your cooperation," monotonically said Vinca. "Girls from the Kafra are like those flowers. We, Al de Baran women are brought up with only the purest intentions in mind. Unfortunately…" 

_What the hell is she talking about?_

The Kafra lifted her staff and thrust it down the Ramus' back. Ramus couldn't help but let out a gut-wrenching scream of pain.

"Filthy, greedy human hands expose them to the worst of human nature! Wars, death, destruction… We become tools of man's stupid quest for his own demise!", shouted Vinca while increasing the downforce on the staff.

_Aaahh… The Kafra Corp? She wants to destroy the Kafra Corp?_

  
"I like flowers and I would do anything to prevent them from tainted by the evils of man. That is why I am here. I have to do my part to save the fate of my flower friends. Sorry, Mr. Thief. You're in my way so I would have to do the Kafra's final service to you, a final teleport." said Vinca as she looked down and smiled upon the half-breathing Ramus. The Kafra stepped away from Ramus and started opening an extra large black portal beneath Ramus.   
  
_I can't move. Is this the end of my journey?_  
  
Ramus closed his eyes and tried to think of something else before his death.   
  
Ramus was uttering his last prayers when he heard something drop from the planks suspended high above the ceilings. The sound of two metal shoes landing on the marble reached his ears. Someone else was in the theater.   
  
The pulsating noise from the opening portal ceased.   
  
"Getting bored of watching us?" shouted Vinca.  
  
A familiar voice came from the dark. "I've always hated your mush stories."  
  
Vinca ran towards the darkness. Ramus could only raise half of his body using his two arms as he watched her. The red-haired Kafra was indeed powerful. Whoever was hiding in the shadows would be in for one hell of a beating, thought Ramus.   
  
Sounds of clashing steel echoed from the darker end of the theater. The tempo of the sound of crossed weapons went faster and faster. The beat reached a point that one would think it would have been impossible to produce by two arms alone. The sound of fighting that emanated was that of two clashing armies. The music of the ghostly theater played along with the beat, giving the whole place a much more lively, but still equally morbid feel to it.   
  
Ramus finally got the strength to stand up and hold his dagger on his one hand. The blow to his back nearly turned him into a vegetable. He tried to look far into the back end of the audience seats but to no avail.   
  


  
Finally, both the music and the sounds of fighting stopped. Silence gushed forth and filled the whole hall.  
  
Down from the stage, Ramus jumped. There he could already see Vinca slowly trying to walk back towards him. She still wore her usual smile. Only this time, even her face was covered in blood.   
  
Ramus put up his fighting stance and waited for the Kafra's move. The red-haired girl walked a few more wobbly steps and finally fell to the floor where she lay motionless. Her fall exposed a long, bloody katana piercing her back.   
  
A figure came out of the shadows and pulled out the katana. It was Sampaguita, the green-haired Kafra that he had met earlier.   
  
Sampaguita sheathed her katana, stooped down and grabbed Vinca's collar as she inclined her bruised body. "What have you got to say for yourself, Kafra Elite #34, Voshino Vinca?"  
  
Vinca tried her best to put on her usual smile but her weakened body rebelled against it. She looked at the equally bloodied Sampaguita in the eyes and in a slow and weak voice she said:  
  
"I'm… glad," said Vinca in a dying voice.   
  
"I'm glad. That…. that… that in the end, even if I wasn't able to stop the madness, I'm still glad that you are the one who came here to kill me."  
  
With that, the young Kafran devil passed away, in the hands of her fellow servant of Kafra Corporation.   
  
Sampaguita slowly laid her fellow kafra to the cold ground of Glastheim.  
  
_You didn't have to stop the madness, Vinca. _


	9. Chapter 6: Hesitation

Quick recap: Ramus encountered his first match inside an ancient theater deep within GH. It was a young kafra who wanted to destroy the Kafra Corp using the tournaments wishes. The fight did not go well for Ramus as he was simply overpowered by the young lady with her unearthly strength. The fight was all ready to end when another kafra in the form of Sampaguita who had assisted his escape earlier interrupted the match. The two kafras fought and the younger one fell prey to the blade of the Comodo Kafra. 

Chapter 6: Hesitation

Silence. 

It was almost as if the whole theater had stopped breathing all of a sudden. Gone was the grand concerto of ghostly melodies. Even the spotlights were shut off. The candlelights near the front stage one by one flickered out. The opening act was finished, the first murder, committed. 

That the theater empathized with the young girl's death was a given. The unmoving Ramus could only stare at the two Kafras a few paces away from him. The frigidity of the atmosphere was eating him up, drops of sweat forming in his forehead. It was the second time that he had seen somebody die right in front of his very eyes, the first being the deaths of his companions. Maybe it was the amalgamation of the death of his friends that buried the wooden stake of shock into his heart even deeper when he saw the young girl stripped of life.

Sampaguita finally got up from her squatted posture. She stood silent, insensate, and without the usual smile. Her hands were stained with blood, one of them still clenching the pendant bearing Vinca's name. Her body was full of traces from the rigors of a fierce battle. 

The thief knew what was next in order. He was to now fight the one who had defeated the girl who nearly killed her a few moments back. His back's numbness hasn't even lifted yet. If there was one thing that he could have thought then, it would be the word "out of the league".

The kafra slipped the pendant down her dusty, bloodied apron. She slowly raised her katana and pointed it at the thief. 

"Don't you think it's a real pity that we have to meet so early in the game? You look like a good man," said Sampaguita to the unmoving thief, " unfortunately, you're in my way."

Ramus angrily gazed at the emerald stones that sparkled across the face of the Kafra. It was clear that she was not as inhuman as she was boasting outside the castle a while ago. She was, in fact, all too affected. It was only then that it dawned to him. She was the sister Vinca had been talking about all along. 

"You're being a fucking idiot. Do you know that?" shouted Ramus in a shaken, almost crying voice. 

Sampaguita's battle trance seemed to have been blown away. 

"Before you give me your goddamn pity, why don't you look at yourself? You have just killed your sister and you know it. You so goddamn know it! And what do you do? You suck it all up. That's right. You pretend it didn't happen."

For the first time in her life, the Kafra didn't know what to say. No lines in her script, no manual could ever dictate what she had to say. Normally, she wouldn't even take heed into an adversary's words. But they were simply all too true. 

"I…" the kafra struggled for words but to no avail. 

Ramus tried to walk towards the Kafra. His back injury made this task of extreme painfulness. 

"There's only the two of us now. Nobody is watching your every move. Nobody. I too had lost people that I loved not too long ago. I never had the time to grieve. Not even a prayer. You shouldn't let the opportunity pass you."

Sampaguita was staring at the floor now. You could almost feel the tension of the tears trying to well up on a pair of eyes that had been deprived of emotion for so many a year.

The thief took another step. His face changed to that of incredible agony for each step that he tried to make. The green-haired woman stood unmoving for a few seconds, silent as the theater of long ago that surrounded the two.

All of a sudden the kafra assumed a purging stance. She pointed the katana at Ramus, arched back in a dashing position and lunged to strike with godly speed. Dust rose up from the ruined carpets that she passed. Air being split sounded across the empty theater.

It was Ramus' turn to stand still this time, as Vinca had done to him a while ago. Somehow he already knew that it was not up to him on who would emerge victorious. Heck, it wasn't even a match anymore. But he knew that it wasn't his moment yet. He put a fixed stare at the Kafra's he was looking for something. And he found it. 

The blade went through but did not pierce. It touched his neck but did not cut. Sampaguita missed. And deliberately. The face of the broken thief and the shaken servant finally met up close. No words were spoken but an understanding had been reached. 

The long overdue tears finally rolled out. Ramus put on a little smile of relief. And for the first time, the Kafra did too. This time the toothed smile was hers and not of the corporation. 

But a game is a game. 

Samaguita launched a knee up to Ramus' midrib, causing him to drop on the dusty floor. Nothing other attacks followed, 'twas to be an undecided match.

The Kafra opened the theater exit and simply ran off. Their match was cut short but it was not the last time that they met for the duration of Glastheimspiel.  

Quick Recap: Ramus finally let out his anger over Sampaguita's action against her sister. The Kafra finally got in touch with her emotions and was unable to continue the match. Ramus however, was still left in a most battered condition.


End file.
